This is the account of a 30 year-old woman child ripped from the Midwest and plopped into NYC. I am prone to panic attacks on the subway, drunken debauchery, soaring spells of superiority followed by esteem crushing lows, moments of hilarity inspired by rage, and a penchant for eating gross food.

Friday, July 13, 2007

There is a new drinking game here in Brooklyn! Yes, it was unleashed on the masses Wednesday, July 10th 2007 at approximately 11:47pm after close to 7 hours of drinking at Trout Bar & Grill; my place of employment. It's HIP CUP, everybody!

Here's how you play and feel free to improvise around the rules and add your own touches and flourishes.

First, spend 8 days in Chicago re-living your old, glorious life in one of the world's prettiest, cleanest cities. Enjoy what's called "The Victory Lap"where you feel like a minor celebrity because people tend not to remember all of your bullshit and are actually tricked into thinking it's "nice" to see you back in town.

Next, stay with old friends in their typically HUMONGOUS, gorgeous and totally affordable Chicago apartment. Have a spare bedroom all to yourself that is bigger than your entire unit in Brooklyn to solidify your envy and unconcealable jealousy. Then, make sure they leave for 4 days on vacation so you have the WHOLE damn place to yourself with Wi-Fi, On Demand, Giant overstuffed couches, AC and a sprawling park across the street. Catch up on the last 3 seasons of "Six Feet Under".

For added intrigue, on your first night back, secure a week long lay. Make sure this person has been your friend over the years and that your shared mutual attraction and admiration makes things escalate quickly just to drive home the fact that you can throw a rock into the middle of Times Square on New Years Eve and NEVER come close to hitting someone fun and cool like this person. Or so it seems at that moment. Just enjoy the present and don't fret about the future. That's what we have learned through a year full of hard lessons, growing up, and self-improvement. Be a rebel, don't let emotions take over, love 'em and leave 'em, Van Poppelen.

But, do get slightly weirded out when on your last night in town there is zero attempt to say goodbye to you from this person who, if you are not mistaken, has been pretty forward about how they feel about you.

The next morning, wake up with a hangover and hop onto the beach cruiser your friend has lent you and pedal out to Lake Michigan. Sit on the shore and stare out over the immense blue of the water as wind whips through your hair. Become morose over the fact that Chicago is easy and beautiful and clean and you miss it like crazy. Become teary over the fact that so much of your life and existence actually matters to some people in this city and begin to dread boarding a plane. Still no call from the boy, who 2 days ago said he was going to escort you to the airport.

Have an uneventful trip back to NYC and straight away commute to your job feeling very glum about everything you left behind in Chicago. Be so tunnel visioned that you can't for the life of you think of one good thing you have going for you in NYC.

But, arrive at your job and be surprised to find out that your co-workers have missed you!

Get called off work due to rain, close the bar to the public and proceed to drink heavily with all of your co-workers. This will surely get your mind off the colossal ditching episode you experienced not 24 hours ago.

Tell yourself that you are FINE and you have been FINE for the past year just doing your own thing, making your way in this unknown land. And after another drink, realize that you are not hurt, but actually indignant that someone would be such a weak, inconsiderate child by not saying goodbye to you and worst of all, take a dump on your friendship. Do not grovel for approval, or dig to find out what went wrong. It's over and done. He loses. Bury it and make your peace with the situation.

For now.

Celebrate your little personal triumph and have another drink. It's party time now and you need to storm up the street to karaoke like a wild pack of vikings, pillaging all of the song books and raping the microphone with your outsized ego covering "Old Time Rock and Roll" .

Ravage the free NYC subway line condoms laid out on the bar and of course cover all of the leftover happy hour hot dogs with the condoms, prepping them for a night of safe sex and then throw them at people. Imbibe several more drinks and storm back down the street to your place of employment which is now unexpectedly open again for business. Straight arm some strangers on the way.

Incur the wrath of your boss who is serving the meager gathering of people outside at your place of employment and have him give you all a "don't fuck with me, these are my only real, paying customers for the night" look even though he is the one who helped create this hot mess.

Continue drinking tequila and start wildly flirting with everyone in an attempt to puff up your ego and then without warning go to a drunk place in your head where you become like an unpredictable animal and without provocation decide to stew some more about being ditched by the boy despite the earlier, triumphant dismissal of it. At this point in the night begin simmering about it because you are fueled by 100 or so drinks. Feel the pure rage coursing through your veins.

Notice some painfully hip locals hanging out behind you sporting moustaches, neckerchiefs, and Deck Shoes ala Tom Selleck Magnum PI era. Immediately take a dislike to them and begin to mock their uber Williamsburg faggotry not so quietly.

Mistakenly think your co-worker mentions how funny it would be to throw a drink at one of the hipster douche bags and then have your innate impulse to please and awe people with your "comedic naughtiness" take over. Grab your almost finished drink in a plastic Dixie cup and serve it like a volleyball backwards over your head toward them without hesitation.

Hear the sound of a soft "thunk" and the ice cubes scatter on the floor and then a very startled male voice yell out, "what the fuck!"

Congratulations, you've nailed the lead hipster square in the chest and now you must turn to face him as he's yelling, "did someone throw a drink at me?" To which your meathead, part time firefighter bar co-worker replies "Yeah--you got a problem with that?"

Watch in terror as a fight erupts and have to throw yourself in between the 2 guys yelling, "It was me----I'm so sorry! I wasn't aiming---I jokingly threw it over my shoulder and I didn't mean to hit you. i totally did it. I don't know why I did it but I wasn't aiming at you personally." and oddly enough have the guy accept your apology.

Think you're in the clear only to get cursed out by your boss who is loudly wondering what the hell is wrong with you because now he has to buy all those guys a round of drinks and apologize for having drunk employees who throw drinks at customers.

Become pouty because no one knew the backstory ---or knew there was a voice in your head that said, 'You're angry about something that happened 24 hours ago. Take it out on someone else for some laughs. Nothing wrong with a little displaced revenge, right Brooke? Do it. People will think you're cool." But nobody really cares about your line of reasoning when they've just had a drink thrown at them.

Sadly admit to yourself that this is not the first time you've thrown something at someone, nor will it be the last, but in the past they've at least usually had it coming to them. Know that there had always been a very clear cause and effect but this was your first incident of a deviant, psychological act-out fueled by too much booze and rejection.

Anyway, as you can see Hip Cup is not really about competition so much as it is about being slighted, ingesting a gallon of tequila, and lacking normal coping mechanisms. Anyone can play as long as you have endured a whilrwind of emotions and decide to deal with it all through alcohol!

I was subsequently fired from the bar 2months later for even worse behavior, believe it or not.

As for the dude who was an unwilling participant in my inaugural game of Hip Cup,well, we didn't see him come back around to the bar that summer. I am guessing that's my fault.

And as for the boy who ditched me, well just 8 months later I got a myspace message. From his girlfriend. It read, "Hi. You fucked my boyfriend...." Oof. That explains the sudden disappearing act from that turd. I had no clue he was in a long distance relationship. She went on to say a few nasty things about me and I thought about writing back to her to make peace, but thought better of it and just deleted her email realizing that I was not the one at fault,but merely on the receiving end of her wildly tossed Dixie Cup and I took it square to the chest.

NYC: A Special Place For Special People

This is an account of the ridiculous adventures I have had trying to navigate through everyday life in NYC. Someone has to stand up to this place and it may as well be me. I have also spent years on end diagnosing myself with diseases both real and imagined with the aid of the interweb. I feel more than qualified to address your health concerns both real or imagined.